They Had Had A Cat
by wisegirl2772
Summary: "They had had a cat… perhaps it had perished, like his parents, at Godric's Hollow… or else fled when there was nobody left to feed it…" The tale of what happened to the Potter's cat.


**Author's Note: Heya! Okay so this is my first (published) Harry Potter fic and I hope you all like it! II would have posted it a few weeks ago, but I turned it in for a grade and then wanted to see if my teacher hated it or not before I uploaded it. Turns out she loved it! A+!**

**Disclaimer: I wish I wish, I had Harry Potter, not that I had a fish.

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**Leaves crunched under the gentle steps of the young cat that trotted down the empty street. Its bell, which hung around his neck, chimed softly in the morning quiet. It had been a long night of gallivanting in the woods, chasing after hares and birds that the forest was full of. But every night was like that, and like every night, the fun came to an end and the kitten had to go home.

The young cat did have a home, and a very nice one with a sweet family who adored him. A cat's instinct however is to be wild and to take any chance of freedom it could get, which is what the cat did every night. But cats are greedy creatures, who love to eat, and they must take any chance they can get to eat. That was why the kitten was heading home, where he was sure a bowl of chicken livers would be waiting. So the cat strutted down the pavement towards the small cottage in Godric's Hollow.

The tiny cat crossed the grassy lawn towards the cozy two-level house. Dawn was just breaking and the November sun was beaming through the autumn trees. It was any normal day, but something was wrong.

There was no sound coming from the house. No movement from the fiery mother cooking breakfast, or from the exhausted father, stumbling down the stairs, or even the young child gurgling in his bed.

The house was completely silent and the cat stopped in its steps, sensing that something was wrong. The door to the house was hanging at an odd angle, and it was thrown open exposing the front hall to the whole world. The cat slowly started forward, his tail high above his body, and his eyes in slits.

As he stepped up on the house's low porch, he saw something lying in the foyer. Carefully, the cat started closer towards the object. It was a pair of glasses with rounded frames, one of which was cracked. And next to the broken glasses was a body. It was the father of the family, with shaggy, ebony hair, and his hazel eyes open, glazed over in fear. The cat's tail dropped, and his eyes widened slightly. Taking stealthy steps around the corpse, the cat started up the carpet-covered steps, towards the second floor.

At the top of the stairs, the cat felt a sudden change. Something had happened here, something evil. And it wasn't only the atmosphere that had changed but the climate. It had grown colder and a chill was coming from down the hall, from the child's room.

The feline turned towards the child's room, and his tail dropped again. The previously white door was scorched with soot and chips of the door were missing. The tabby approached the door and pawed it open, and the sight caused his tail to drop completely to the floor.

The walls, which had been a baby blue before, were burnt, and the walls streaked with ash. The kitten stepped farther into the room, walking over a black cloak and towards the crib and what lay before it.

The mother, who, in life, had always been bright and witty, lay dead before the cradle, her prone figure was crumpled to the side, and her emerald eyes were wide in pain. The cat looked up at the crib that was covered in burns and leaves, which must have drifted in from the hole above the cradle. The crib was empty and the bedding destroyed, and the only thing the feline could wonder was where the child was.

If the mother and father were dead, then the child must be as well. Remorse seeped into the cat and he backed out of the room. Slowly the cat padded down the steps onto the first floor of the house. Steering clear of the father, the feline walked out of the small Godric Hollow cottage.

A lot of time had passed since he had entered the previously lively home, and the sun now shone brightly. Sadly the tabby glanced back at the house, before creeping down the yard and into the orange forest, where the cat blended in, except for his collar, which twinkled in the new day. His tags winked in the golden glow of the sun, as his name lit up. His name, Crookshanks, from when he had had a family.


End file.
